Built for Two
by nanniships
Summary: Little birthday fic for Eady based on a prompt from my daughter. Anna invites John cycling. John doesn't know how to ride a bike. What's it gonna take to get him on a bike?


Built for Two

John Bates eyed his cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter with only slightly more warmth than he would have shown a potentially rabid weasel. It was a lovely Saturday morning and the breeze drifting in through the slightly opened window caress his face as he scraped a spatula through the eggs and tomatoes in his frying pan. Any second now…

Although he was prepared for it, the distinctive ring of a text message made him jump. He picked up his phone with a sigh and glanced down, hoping it might be his boss telling him he was needed for a last minute project.

 _Hi John…up 4 a ride today?_

As he had so many times before, John gritted his teeth and prepared to decline his neighbor's invitation. His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the screen, wondering what excuse to make this time.

"Let's see…I've been sick, busy, expecting an important call, waiting for the carpet layers, sick again, trying to stop a leak under my sink…"

John Bates pondered the enigma that was Anna Smith and her cycling enthusiasm. They got on well as neighbors, sharing the occasional coffee. And recently, they'd found a mutual love of wandering through the endless nooks and crannies of the book seller down the street. Their last encounter amongst the early 20th century poetry had led to pizza and good natured arguments until half past one in the morning that had made him laugh more than he had for the last six years.

But as he was greatly enjoying their deepening friendship, and hoping it might even lead to more, he found himself subject to invitations to join her on her bike rides on Saturday. And he was having to be even more creative to come up with excuses why he couldn't when, in reality, he'd love to be able to spend that time with her.

Just not on a bicycle.

"Either she's relentlessly persistent, or deliberately obtuse," he muttered as a new text rang in.

 _John? If you_ _'re sleeping, you'd better get up. I think your kitchen is on fire._

It was at that moment that John noticed the smoke billowing from the frying pan on the stove and heard the pounding of feet coming up the stairs to his flat. Cursing loudly, he wrapped the handle of the pan in a dish towel and chucked the it and its contents into the sink. A small fist pounded on his door.

"John! Is everything alright in there? Answer me or I'm calling 999!"

"It's fine…it's fine," he yelled, turning off the burner and glaring at the remnants of his breakfast still hissing in the sink. Grumbling, he stalked to the door and opened it just as Anna Smith had drawn back her arm to hammer on it again.

"Are you alright?" she asked anxiously, craning around him to look toward the kitchen and the smoke still streaming up from the sink.

"I'm fine," he assured her, stepping to one side so she could come in. "Just burned my breakfast is all. Only time all week I get a fry-up…"

"Silly begger," she informed him with a relieved smile. "You ought to pay more attention."

"I was distracted by a text," he replied, raising his eyebrows at her.

Anna shook her head and tried to look sternly at him. "Don't try blaming me for that. Were you composing a novella in reply?"

"Um….not really," he began, stopping when he noticed what she was wearing.

"What?" she asked self consciously.

"Is that what you always wear to go cycling in?" he asked, indicating her tight, safety yellow top and failing to wrench his eyes away from the very tight black shorts she was sporting.

"Yes," she answered in a puzzled tone. "That's what most cyclists wear."

"Ah."

When no further comment was forthcoming, Anna became a little uncomfortable with the silence.

"Not everyone who rides a bike wears kit like this," she tried to reassure him, thinking perhaps the ensemble wasn't his cup of tea. "But if you cycle a lot, it's pretty typical."

John made a noncommittal noise and Anna rushed on.

"So you wouldn't _have_ to wear something like this if you wanted to go for a ride…"

"Yes. Well…about that…I can't join you today."

"What is it this time?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "Are you pet sitting a nervous Bearded Dragon? Or is your Mum coming into town for a bit of shopping?"

John gaped at her for a moment as she tried to hide her growing smile.

"If you knew I was making excuses, why did you keep asking?" he huffed irritably. His mood wasn't improved when she laughed.

"Because I was curious as to when you'd run out of excuses or tell me the real reason you don't want to go cycling."

"I don't like cycling," he snapped.

"Fine," she replied, continuing to smile. "That's settled and I won't ask you anymore. But why didn't you just say so?"

"You seemed to like it a lot, and it seemed a bit rude to just flat out refuse…"

"No worries, John," she said gently. "Not everyone likes cycling. I thought, if you did, it might be fun to do together."

While John tried to process that Anna was trying to find things they could enjoy together, Anna sighed and pulled her hair back, securing it into a pony tail at the base of her neck. He looked at her appreciatively, seizing the moment of her distraction to allow his eyes to wander down the front of her shirt, pulled taut against her chest as she reached back to fuss with the hair tie.

"I've never seen you wear your hair like that."

"Well, I've got to fit it all under a helmet." The corner of her mouth quirked up as she noticed his scrutiny.

John cleared his throat and stepped back as she began to head for the door.

"Maybe we can get together this afternoon for some lunch," she suggested.

"That would be great," he agreed enthusiastically.

"Better than cycling, anyway."

"I don't even have a bike, Anna," he blurted as she was leaving.

She stopped and turned back in surprise. "That's not a problem. I could borrow one for you from one of the chaps in the cycling club—"

"And I haven't ridden a bike in quite a while."

"I'm sure it would come back to you quickly. Bikes haven't changed much. How long has it been?"

"SinceIwasseven," he muttered, dropping his eyes.

"What was that?" When he didn't look back up at her, she reached out and gently touched his arm. "John, what did you say?"

"Since I was seven," he said with a resigned sigh, waiting for her to laugh. When she didn't, he glanced up to see her watching him in confused disbelief. "I…er, never _actually_ learned how. My cousin just set me on his bike one day when I was visiting and shoved me off down a hill. I went about ten feet, straight into an oak tree, and I guess I flipped over the front and hit my head. Next thing I knew, Aiden was standing over me yelling about how I broke his bike and my Aunt was throwing a bucket of water over me to try to wake me up. Never got on one since."

"Oh no! No wonder you never wanted to go cycling with me!" She looked at him apologetically. "If I'd known, I'd never have bothered you about it."

"Maybe I should have mentioned it straightaway," he admitted, "but how is a chap my age supposed to admit he needs training wheels? And now with this bum knee, I don't suppose I'll ever learn…"

"I'm sorry, John."

"Not your fault," he said with a grin. "I'd have _liked_ to go cycling with you, if I could. But not even the chance to watch you in those little shorts could get me up on a bicycle again."

"Well, we just might have to see about that, Mr. Bates," she replied, a slight flush spreading across her cheeks. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. Let me know."

He watched her as she went briskly back down the stairs, then hurried over to kitchen window to catch a glimpse of her as she slowly rode her bike down the street. His smile grew wider as she raised up on the pedals to merge into the traffic, and he wondered if that was for his benefit.

Whether it was or not, it was just about all he could think about as he scoured the burnt eggs out of his frying pan and popped some bread into the toaster for a poor substitute.

* * *

A week later, John found himself humming the song the busker had been playing outside the restaurant they'd eaten at the night before as he lined up the eggs and began slicing the tomatoes. He smiled, remembering the way her hand had slipped into his as they'd strolled back to their flats. She'd matched her steps with his so naturally, it was if they'd been walking next to each other for years.

He wasn't expecting the text this time, and the sudden ding made him nick his middle finger with the knife. Shaking his hand, he reached for the dishtowel, disregarding the burn marks on it as he wrapped up his finger and picked up his phone as if he'd like to chuck it out the window. Expecting to see a communication from work, his eyebrows shot up when he saw it was Anna.

 _I've got a new bike today! Can you pop down and see it?_

Grimacing, he painstakingly tapped out an affirmative. _Hang on. Be right there._

 _Turn the stove off!_ she promptly texted back.

John rolled his eyes and shoved the phone into his pocket. Cradling his hand, he went downstairs and outside to gawp at Anna, who was leaning against the front handlebars of a tandem bike.

"I can assure you that I don't run into trees… _and_ I brought you a helmet, if you'd like to go on a bike ride with me," she said a little uncertainly when he didn't say anything.

John regarded the bike dubiously. "I don't know…."

"All you'll have to do is pedal. We won't go fast; there's a lovely path just down the street through the park - no big hills or anything."

"What if I make us tip over?"

"You won't," she assured him. "I've ridden tandem bikes with blokes as big you before."

He cocked an eyebrow at that and thought briefly about asking for details. Anna rolled her eyes as she guessed the direction his mind was going and reached out to pat the rear seat invitingly.

"And I'll take the front," she said brightly.

Anna bit her lip as she watched his face while he was thinking. It was starting to look like his reluctance would win out, and she felt the disappointment heavy in her chest. Suddenly, he smiled broadly enough to make his eyes crinkle in that way she loved, and he nodded.

"Alright! Let's give it a go!"

He stood happily as she fussed over him putting on the helmet and getting it straight. Then she directed him to sit on the seat and wait until she was set and ready before he lifted a foot to begin pedaling. Settling himself on the unfamiliar, rather uncomfortable seat, he watched, delighted, as she threw her leg over and settled herself.

"Put your right foot up on the pedal, John and lift your left foot up once we're rolling," she directed. "What made you change your mind?"

John lifted his feet as directed and felt the wonderful flow of air against his face as the bike began to slowly roll down the street. Rather than watch the shops go past, he watched the movement of her shoulder blades beneath the bright, tight shirt and the wiggle of her hips as she worked the pedals.

"I thought I might enjoy the view."

Anna shot a quick glance over her shoulder and met his shining eyes. Then she returned her attention to the road.

"Well…if you like it, we'll have to get you some shorts of your own…"


End file.
